Beaten Bones of Teak and Steel (a sonnet)

[ellajam]

Hi, this one didn't hit me the way some of your other sonnets have. I'm no expert, but the meter doesn't seem to be consistent enough to pull me through, and it lacks the personal touch that often works so well for me when reading your work.

I hope someone else can be more helpful.

Beaten bones of teak and steel, alone in
weeds and dunes, decay. Their last rites the sound
of rigging blowing in the wind. Grown thin
the ancient mast; the ropes once firmly wound
on cleats now lie unraveled on the deck.
The captain dead. The crew as well. Around,
a scene of barren seas and skies. The wreck
sinks slowly on her side into the sands.
She was the best, of new design, the pride
of Portugal. She went down with all hands.
Mangled on the reef, carried by the tide
onto the beach. Unseen by human eyes,
a monument to those poor men who died,
the only witness of their helpless cries.